


Critique of the Liar

by NorthernSoulPie



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernSoulPie/pseuds/NorthernSoulPie
Summary: F!Cadash talks shit about Varric's writing but secretly loves it. Varric lambasts her taste to no end but secretly thinks some of her criticisms are pretty on point.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coaldustcanary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaldustcanary/gifts).



“Urgh, you know this is absolute Nug shit, don’t you? I can’t believe anyone would actually pay to read this garbage!”

The Inquisitor was lying on the bed on her stomach, ankles crossed and ‘Hard in Hightown’ wedged firmly in her hands. As much as he enjoyed the sight of the lovely Cadash in his bed, he was surprised to find himself a little worried at her reaction to his work. Though perhaps not ‘Hard in Hightown’. Although it was his best selling piece, he didn’t really mind too much what she thought of that one. It was a tongue-in-cheek, ‘good guard, bad guard’ romp, written more for comedic value than anything. He hadn’t even planned to publish it, until he’d realised he could make a bit of extra ale money from it. Logic followed that _of course_ it then became the best-selling book in Thedas. And there it remained to this day, a good few years after its release. Audiences; nuttier than squirrel shit.

“You’re unimpressed with my work, Madam Inquisitor?”

“Just a bit. Maker’s breath, Varric, this is excruciating! I’m actually cringing at some of these descriptions. Come here, I’ll show you what I mean.”

“You know it’s already been published, right? And a bestseller, I may add, in five countries. Poor Genitivi and his tedious ‘Travels’ couldn’t hope to compete with my brilliance. ”

Cadash slammed the book down with a thump, and shot him a death stare, “’In Pursuit of Knowledge’ is my favourite book, I’ll have you know.”

Varric snorted. “Of course it is, dry as the wastes and just about as interesting. Sums your interests up quite nicely. As I said, Genitivi can’t even complete, poor wretch.”

“’Brilliance’, he says, hysterical. Just come here and explain this then.”

 

Varric slowly lowered his pen and got up. His mahogany desk took up most of his tiny quarters, leaving barely enough room to squeeze in a single bed and chest for his things. He didn’t mind the cramped space too much, though: he was used to making the most of the limited space from living in the Hanged Man. The inn’s room he’d inhabited there had been quite spacious until he’d filled it to the brim with bookcases and the huge dwarven dining table.

He scowled and the familiar bite of anger in his stomach returned once more. Having to leave Kirkwall in a hurry meant he’d had to leave behind his stacks of precious books and furniture. That dining table was hundreds of years old, carved in the workshops of Orzammar and passed down through generations of the Tethras family. It was the only heirloom he had left. Fucking Anders. He missed that damn table.

Cadash smirked impishly as he approached. So she was in one of those moods, was she? He’d never admit to her that he loved their faux arguments and flirtatious bickering. Wouldn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had the upper hand. She was former Carta, well versed in the arts of manipulation and extortion. Varric had to keep his wits about him when she was around.

He sank down onto the bed next to her, leaning non-too-gently on her back and peered over her shoulder.

“So are you going to show me what all your harping is about, then? I’m all ears, Your Inquisitorialness.”

Cadash pointing showily at the page. “Right here. Chapter Nine, third paragraph down. And I quote, ‘The Dragon's Jewels was a big ship. The pointy bits towered majestically over the water. That roundish wooden part seemed like it could crush armadas beneath its... shit, I don't know, wood. It was the greatest ship in the history of ships.’” Cadash paused significantly. “Do explain yourself, Varric.”

Varric coughed. Admittedly, Chapter Nine was not his finest work.

“I don’t know anything about ships,” he said, shrugging.

Cadash laughed, body shaking under him most invitingly. “Gee, you don’t say! ‘The roundish wooden part’? Andraste’s tits, Varric, would it have killed you to do a tiny bit of research before writing this crap?!”

“Well, what is it then, if you’re so clever?”

Cadash giggled. “It’s called a ‘bow’, Varric. I’ve never even been on a ship and I could have told you that!”

“Hmm…” He leaned further over her and bent down to nip at her ear – so tiny and adorable – he just couldn’t resist. “Show off.”

Cadash gasped at the sudden contact, followed by a near-silent sigh. Varric let go of her ear, letting his lips brush the little lobe: “Keep going, tell me why else you think my work is crap.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“As you wish.” She flicked through more pages. “All right, what about this one, then. Chapter Nineteen: ‘The rain stopped with a suddenness that suggested some enterprising footpad from the Coterie had climbed up to shank the clouds.’ I can’t tell if that’s comedic effect or just plain terrible.”

Varric carefully tucked a lock of her hair away, before resuming his nipping of her little ear, “Perhaps a more intelligent reader would recognise that both are possible in a book like mine.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm. It’s a damn shame I can’t decide who gets to read my books. Would prevent unfavourable reviews from people who don’t quite get the subtlety.”

She giggled. “So ‘Hard in Hightown’ has hidden depth, does it? And apparently I need to read between lines to fully appreciate it? SO pretentious.”

“Got it in one, Inquisitor. If you look more carefully, you’d see that it’s really a critique of the dominant ideology in modern southern Thedas. That of the age-old struggle between ‘good’ and ‘evil’, between the ‘status quo’ and ‘revolutionary change’. And how such a simplified dichotomy cannot possibly be applied to the shades of grey in real life. Donnen Brennokovic represents the conflict between the unobtainable ideal taught by Andrastism, and the questionable acts needed to ensure peace in lawful society.”

Cadash stared, pink lips parted. “…what. Really?”

Varric grinned. “Nah, I’m just shitting you. I was pretty much drunk from writing the first page to the last. Just wanted to see if the fabled Herald would fall for my bullshit.”

She wriggled out from under him and gave him a playful punch to the arm. “You absolute pillock, I believed you for a second!”

“More fool you. I did tell you I’m a pathological liar.”

Cadash pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him in one fluid movement. Holding both his wrists above his head, she leant down until their faces were only inches apart. Varric bit his lip hard, trying desperately to keep some sort of sense about him while the desire consumed him. Had to keep his mind sharp while she was around.

“Try me again, Varric Tethras. See if I can’t detect another lie of yours.”

She ground her hips torturously slowly against him. Varric couldn’t stop the hiss from escaping his lips. He tried to kiss her but she pulled away, leaving him to fall back to the bed pathetically. The book under him dug painfully into his back under her weight. Cadash had the upper hand, and he was entirely under her mercy. Never a good thing, with an ex-Carta Dwarf. But he had the perfect test for her, something that wipe the smug grin from her face, if only for a second.

“I love you.”

Clearly she hadn’t been expecting that. Releasing his wrists, Cadash sat back until she was perched upright on his thighs. He saw uncertainty and hurt cloud her pretty face just before she looked away, teeth dug into her bottom lip. “Is that another lie?”

_Oh shit._

Varric sat upright so he was level with her and curled his hand around the back of her neck. He snaked the other hand behind her to pull her tightly against him.

“Can’t you tell?”

It was a cruel trick in hindsight, one that worked a little too well judging by her reaction.

If she wouldn’t believe his words, he guessed he’d have to prove it some other way. How else could a liar prove his love to a master manipulator? He’d have to sit down some time, put pen to paper, and find out.

 


End file.
